


A Reenactment For Good Measure

by Catminty



Series: Pleasure Is Best Served Forced [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Coercion, Domination, Forced Orgasm, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Power Play, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catminty/pseuds/Catminty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During one of the DJD's visits to Decepticon command, Starscream challenges Megatron's claim on the show Tarn and Soundwave gave for their lord. He doesn't believe it was anywhere near as hot as what the warlord made it out to be. Thus, a reenactment is required. </p><p>How can Soundwave managed to get away? How can he hide? Oh yeah. He can't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Reenactment For Good Measure

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah. Apparently some people like this pairing? Headcannon sure did, yup. I was just bombarded with imagery.
> 
> At work. ;_;
> 
> 'Beta'? What's this 'beta' thing you speak of? Is it tasty?

 

It's not like he was disobeying an order. He did nothing of the sort. Lord Megatron gave an order, but it was only indirectly related to him. Thus, there was nothing wrong with running away and hiding at the first opportunity. The alternative just was not an option. Not one he wanted to consider anyway.

That's what started this living reflux.

Soundwave held as still as his shaking frame could in his newest hiding spot. He had been tracked, or rather _stalked_ , since _he_ came back. Primus. 

Slow, casual pedsteps echoed in the hall just outside of Soundwave's hiding spot. All non-vital processes froze in terror. _He_ could smell fear. It had never been officially confirmed, but neither had Soundwave's telepathy. Sure, Soundwave could hack his processor to try to stop him. But he couldn't kill him. Megatron ordered that they couldn't kill each other. Meaning _he_ would get revenge. 

His spark spun tightly in its casing before the soft humming even reached his audios. The footsteps loomed closer. Soundwave's processor began to spin. 

He had to hide--

The humming stopped, as did the pedfall. Silence stretched on for breems. The closet Soundwave stashed himself away in became the suffocatingly small. He was trapped.

He had to get away--

Suddenly, the reinforced steel door was ripped open with such extreme prejudice that its hinges shattered in a spray of shrapnel. The door itself was flung across the hall.

Soundwave stared up from his huddled position in the furthest corner of the closet, visor blanched in shock and fear. Because there, on the other side, stood the only thing he truly feared in all his viscous, purple glory.

Tarn.

The hulking mech stared down at his target. His over-bright optics screaming his thrill of the hunt; his thrill of being ordered by Lord Megatron to hunt down Soundwave and perform another loyalty demonstration. 

"Soundwave," the poet purred. "Were you hiding? From me?"

He had to run!!

Terror fueled energy flooded the tapedeck's systems. Soundwave didn't realize he was running until a growl ripped through the hallway. How he got past Tarn he'd never know. The only thing he did know was that he was being chased. By the leader of the DJD. The specialized team that always caught their prey. Always. And when they did capture their target, they made an example of them. 

Around a corner, up a flight of stairs, through a crowd of loitering mechs; Soundwave ran as fast as his systems could push him. Tarn breathed right down his neck cables the entire way. A massive servo swooped down and latched into a flailing leg mid-run, causing the smaller mech to fall faceplate-first onto the unforgiving floor.

~-~-~

The chase lasted all of a klik, but the victory walk seemed to last indefinitely. Shame burned through Soundwave's circuits like foul energon as he was dragged, ped first, through the most populated corridors. At first he tried to remain calm. But as Megatron's quarters drew closer and closer, a self-preserving panic overwhelmed any remaining shred of dignity. Soundwave scrambled to hold onto furniture and walls to slow the impending doom. It was a hopeless fight. His soft whimper upon arriving at their destination caused Tarn's engine to rev a hungry growl.

"I am surprised you were foolish enough to run away," Tarn said. He slowly drew a finger down his captive's leg. "Perhaps I will have to teach you a lesson..." A shiver went through the inverted frame. 

The door opened, and Tarn took them into Megatron's personal quarters. They were large, but unlavish, befitting a gladiator. On the berth the warlord and his air commander reclined casually. Their attention turned towards what Soundwave belatedly realized would be tonight's entertainment. Pits.

Starscream's shocked expression morphed into cruel glee. "I never thought I'd see the orn!" he cackled. "Soundwave, disobeying Megatron, gets dragged in by this stupid fanatic!" Tarn's engine rumbled angrily. 

Soundwave spit static in attempt to explain himself. "Negative!"

The seeker's laughter cut off at a squeal of pain when Megatron twisted his wingtip. "Quiet, you wretch!" The warlord turned a smirk on his third in command who still had his ped held in the air by his tormentor. "No, Soundwave took it upon himself to make the show better for his lord." Tarn's eagerly revving engine was a testament to how much the hunt had fired him up. 

Soundwave lowered his helm to the ground frantically. "L-Lord Megatron! Request: Soundwave return to post. Soundwave: On duty." The servo on his leg tightened.

A hardy laugh filled the room. "Tonight, your duty is to entertain. Put on a show like last time and I may just give you a reward."

Like last time? Last time Soundwave was knocked unconscious. He woke up in the medbay unable to walk for orns. Yes, he did overload harder than he ever had in all of his function, but it was a drug induced ecstasy. In the communication officer's case, Tarn's vocals were the Cybertronian equivalent to the date-rape drug. Soundwave clenched his fists and denta. He couldn't go through that again! 

"Soundwave," Starscream crooned. "You're not going to disobey Lord Megatron's order, are you?"

Three heavily armored warbuilds. A locked room to which only the strongest had security clearance to get out of. One battered tapedeck. The odds were...insurmountable. Soundwave sagged strutless in defeat: he had no choice in this matter. "Negative," he monotoned brokenly.

Megatron hummed his approval. "Begin."

The smallest mech braced himself for the attack. He flinched when his foot was released. Tremors traveled through his frame while heavy steps paces circles within and around his comfort zone. Why did he draw it out? Why did he make him suffer?

The large Decepticon knelt beside the prone frame. A set of digits stroked down trembling backstruts while the other servo tilted Soundwave's faceplate up with deceptive gentleness. The softly glowing visor nervously looked up. One digit lightly tapped his mask, and Soundwave obediently retracted it with only a moments hesitation.

Tarn thumbed along the pliant derma, then pushed into the warm, wet oral cavity. The digit pushed in further to mock-frag his mouth. One digit increased to two, then three, until he could take no more.

A low hum vibrated from deep within the purple chassis causing a curl of heat to travel through Soundwave's frame. The tapedeck offlined his visor in shame. 

Three sets of cooling fans roared from the display. Soundwave distantly wondered when his own would be forced trigger. He received no real pleasure from this last time, and he'd receive none this time either.

Tarn moved, sitting back with his legs extended. His panel retracted to reveal that engorged spike. Two strong servos guided the smaller frame until it straddled him. Blue backplates pushes against a purple chest for support while quivering hips hovered over the spike. 

"Soundwave," Tarn purred sensually. The poet rubbed along his prey's warming panel. "Open for me." The protective plating slid aside to reveal a dry valve. Tarn paused.

Without warning, Soundwave toppled forward. His hips raised into the air and a warm, wet presence traced the rim of his valve. He squeaked in shock and a whiplash of arousal. Tarn was--

Two digits spread Soundwave's valve wider as Tarn's glossa delved deeper. He gasped and grabbed ahold of the legs beneath him for support. No one had ever done this to him before. Soundwave moaned in shocked pleasure. The glossa drove in and out of the quickly slicking valve. Digits dug into his hip seams to stimulate wires, and Soundwave buried his faceplate between the legs beneath him to try to stifle the noises he made. Oh, pits--

That rumbling hum returned right when that skillful glossa curled around the exterior node. The tapedeck bucked and shrieked incoherently as an overload washed over him.

Just as suddenly, Soundwave's position was righted. He struggled to get his bearings then twitched in shocked pain/arousal--how did Tarn impale him on his spike that quickly?! The stretch burned wickedly with the sudden invasion. 

A shocked gasp from the berth signified that his commanding officers also found it to be a good time for spiking. Tarn's engine gave a particularly strong rev, replacing some of the pain with pleasure. Soundwave panted and held as still as possible. He had to adjust quickly. There was no telling when the abuse would begin.

A klik passed with no movement from below. Soundwave dared a glance back; Tarn stared back with hungry optics. Purple digits tweaked wires in blue hip joints, causing the smaller frame to jolt up. The action pulled the valve off the spike halfway, gravity caused self-impalement. Tarn made a pleased note. 

Oh. 

Soundwave panted. He wanted him to... Another tweak caused the same reaction. The tapedeck fans kicked on. He braced his servos on the legs beneath him and slowly lifted his frame up the spike. When he felt the head reach the opening of his valve, he slowly lowered back down. The hands on his hips tugged lightly but encouragingly. 

Pain receded to give way to pleasure. The blue mech worked the spike beneath him in a faster and faster pace. Tarn slid teasing caresses up and down the heated frame. Like this it...it felt good. Why was Tarn being gentle when he was twitching with barely contained control? 

A grunt from the berth caused Soundwave to look up, catching his lord's optics in an accidental gaze. Megatron's expression was unreadable but fiercely potent. Heat coursed through his circuits at being on the receiving end of that stare. 

"Tarn," Megatron growled. "Enough of the Autobot berth mannerisms. Frag already!"

So much for pleasantries. "Yes, Lord Megatron." Tarn grabbed Soundwave's legs and twisted in such a way that the tapedeck's back slammed onto the floor. He didn't even pull out! Legs hooked over hips to spread the valve open wide and angle it just right--

Stars filled Soundwave vision and his vocalizer garbled static and a half-moan when Tarn started pounding in earnest. He planted his elbows on either side of Soundwave's shoulders, effectively smothering him with sheer mass. All the while he fragged him at a breakneck pace. 

Soundwave's wailed as an overload wracked his pinned frame. Tarn snarled in his audio and pistoned harder, drawing out the overload until it crashed over once more with the force of the pleasure.

Panting desperately, the tapedeck clawed at the plating encompassing him. A warmth flooded his valve signifying Tarn's overload, but, like last time, the release only seemed to power him further. 

His valve was spread painfully wide over and over by the engorged spike. The pain/pleasure causes him to weep with the intensity of it all as Tarn continued to pound away in the same over-sensitized spot, at the same angle. It caused the blue mech to squirm with discomfort until he hit just a bit harder. 

"Tarn!!" Soundwave cried out as a potent overload consumed him. 

The fierce mech growled right into a neck joint, causing Soundwave to convulse uncontrollably. He pulled out, took ahold of his spike, and fisted it until long, silver streaks painted the panting blue chassis from helm to valve.

Across the room Starscream shrieked and Megatron roared their completions.

Soundwave swallowed gulp after gulp of ventilation to cool his overheated frame. He stared up dazedly at Tarn, who stared down in return. Soundwave was sure he didn't like that look. 

"Mm..." Megatron rumbled. "Good. Tarn, Soundwave, you may take the next few orns off." He waved them both away in dismissal.

"Thank you, Lord Megatron," Tarn purred, optics never leaving Soundwave's visor. He picked up the painted mech and made his way out of Megatron's chambers before any protests could be made.

Stunned and dazed, Soundwave stared ahead at where they ended up.

Tarn's personal quarters.

That eager field wrapped around his own and the look burning holes through his plating that spoke of an insatiable hunger.

With a few orns leave.

' _Oh Primus.'_


End file.
